What We Know
by BloodyMaryPrayer
Summary: Charles and Elsie fight over what's between them. I do believe it's going to get M.
1. Chapter 1

Elsie took a deep breath. She looked around the small waiting area and fidgeted with her handbag. Impatient and trying to still her thoughts, she stood up to look out the window. She watched cars and people passing on the street below as she waited for Dr. Clarkson.

* * *

Beryl pulled a tray of rolls from the oven and turned to survey the scene. Her Ladyship had nearly a dozen women from the garden club over for luncheon and the food was almost ready. "Daisy!"

"Yes, Mrs. Patmore!" Daisy always managed to sound startled in her reply.

"Don't forget to slice the cucumber and tell Jimmy to take the chicken _upstairs!_"

"Yes, Mrs. Patmore!" Daisy quickly shifted the mixing bowl into her opposite hand and turned toward the footmen.

Beryl frowned to herself and leaned out the kitchen door to glance at the back entrance. Elsie had surprised her after breakfast, casually mentioning that she was going into the village later and to let anyone inquiring know that she should be back by dinner. Beryl muttered a brief acknowledgement as she adjusted the stove, but by the time she turned to ask why, Elsie had disappeared upstairs.

Letting go of the door frame and turning back to the kitchen, Beryl could not help but feel uneasy. Maybe it was nothing. She frowned as she wondered whether Else had told Mr. Carson that she was leaving. He wasn't Elsie's supervisor and technically wasn't required to be told, but their unusual closeness was obvious and she suspected he would not be pleased if he didn't know.

Of course, at that moment Charles walked in. "Is everything ready?" He looked around the kitchen, glancing only briefly at the food while he craned his head around at the staff. Beryl did not have to guess what he was looking for. She put her hands on her hips as she watched him.

"Everything is fine. The chicken has already gone up. Mrs. Hughes should be back shortly."

She added the last statement unprompted. Carson's head snapped around and his eyes met hers. "Back? From where?"

That answered that. Mrs. Hughes hadn't told him.

"She had an errand in the village…should be back any moment..." Beryl trailed off, trying to sound casual as she turned away. She leaned over the counter and pretended to focus on the asparagus, resisting glancing back at him.

Charles stared at her for a second, his eyebrows knitted together lost in thought, before collecting himself. Abruptly, he pulled his shoulders back and gave a curt nod. "Very well then." Looking around as if noticing he was standing in the kitchen for the first time, he waved his hand and quickly added, "James, take the sauce" before turning and heading up the stairs. Mrs. Patmore smiled to herself and rolled her eyes at Daisy's confused expression.

* * *

Dr. Clarkson smiled at Mrs. Hughes. "So what is it that brings you here today?"

She gave him a small, sad smile back. "It's…my chest. I'm afraid it's not feeling quite right."

She had waited several weeks before requesting the appointment. She wasn't sure if she was overreacting. It was tender and slightly sore, but certainly not terrible. But, after the last incident, she couldn't help growing worried. After repeatedly telling herself that she was concerned about nothing, she decided to make the appointment. If nothing else, it would calm her thoughts and let her sleep at night again. She still felt certain that she was overreacting, so she told no one and went alone. She didn't want to appear silly.

Dr. Clarkson beckoned her into an examination room. There was another female patient in a bed on the opposite side of the room, so he pulled a curtain over to give her some privacy. Watching her worried expression, he smiled gently, "I'll take a look but I'm sure everything is fine."

She nodded. Motioning for a nurse to join them, he stepped forward and pulled the curtain into position. Elsie unbuttoned the front of her dress.

* * *

Charles stood in the dining room. The women were eating and he was unconsciously focused on a spot on the opposite wall. He wondered what Elsie was up to. Suddenly, her Ladyship's voice pierced his thoughts. "Carson!"

Blinking, he turned his head toward her. "Yes, my lady?" Six women stared back at him. He looked at her Ladyship's face. She looked puzzled and was masking her annoyance. He realized he had been daydreaming and she had probably called his name more than once. Collecting himself, he snapped to attention and asked again, more determinedly, "_Yes, my lady_?"

The other women cast sideways glances at one another. Carson noticed but ignored them. A brief look of concern crossed Cora's face. "Could we have some more tea?" He nodded and began deftly refilling the glasses. The womens' conversation resumed.

Cora gave Carson an almost invisible furrow of her eyebrows, questioning whether he was alright. He recognized her expression and returned an equally imperceptible nod of his chin, indicating that he was fine. She cast him one last questioning look and turned back to her guests. Charles resumed his position and stared back at the wall.

* * *

Elsie sighed loudly. "You really should tell him." Beryl implored.

"I don't see why. He knew the last time and it certainly didn't help anything."

Beryl frowned. She might not be the most sophisticated of women, but she had seen Elsie and Charles together long enough to know how they felt about one another. She snorted at Elsie, who glared back at her. They were each too foolish and stubborn to just admit it and get on. Softening her expression, she leaned back in her chair and looked at the small window in Elsie's sitting room. They were friends and she would do whatever she could. Especially if they had to do this again. Looking back at Elsie, she smiled. "I'm sure it will be fine."

Elsie gave a weak smile and looked down at the table. "I certainly hope so." After a pause she added, "_but you won't tell him?_" She was serious now. The look in her eye reminded Beryl that she had been the one to give her up last time.

Mrs. Patmore snorted a sarcastic laugh and clapped her hand on the table, returning Elsie's question with the affectionate grimace that only she could manage. Elsie tightened her mouth slightly and looked at her seriously.

"Oh, all right." Mrs. Patmore looked at Elsie. Elsie looked down at her tea.

There was nothing to do now but wait.


	2. Chapter 2

Elsie walked briskly back to the house. She did not want to be away any longer than necessary. Her exam with Dr. Clarkson had been fairly brief. He told her that he did not think there was cause for concern but he wanted to do a biopsy to be certain. They had scheduled it for the following week. After that it would take two months for the results to come back. Again.

She rolled her eyes as she thought. So this would take some time. She wasn't nervous yet, per say, but she knew it would come as the results got closer. For now she just felt tired. Tired to be back in this position again.

* * *

Elsie hoped to slip into the house unnoticed. She had only been gone a few hours. Perhaps her absence had not been noted at all. Moving quickly, she pulled open the back door and nearly ran into Charles. _So much for that idea_.

Charles was obviously flustered and looked away from her awkwardly. Her concerns were momentarily forgotten as she wondered why he was acting so strange. "Oh...good...you're back..."

Elsie straightened up. "Who said I went anywhere?"

"No, well..."

What had gotten into him? "You're wearing your coat." He added abruptly. She could tell he was trying to sound sensible.

She resisted the urge to smile at how peculiar he was acting. "Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Carson?," putting on her best formal and polite housekeeper expression.

"Hm?" He looked around himself as if noticing the hallway for the first time. "Oh, no, thank you."

"Is there something you needed at the back door?" Now she did smile at him and her voice carried the slightest hint of teasing. She realized he had been waiting for her.

He bristled awkwardly. "_It seems I must have forgotten_." He half-whispered quickly and turned to stride away. She rolled her eyes and shook her head as he disappeared down the hall. Out of the corner of her eye she spied Mr. Bates crossing the hallway. John had happened upon the end of their exchange and wore an almost invisible grin. Catching her eye, John nodded at her politely and added a quick smile. Elsie pursed her lips and ducked into her sitting room.

* * *

"Those two." John chuckled, unbuttoning his collar and pulling off his cufflinks. "It's a wonder they haven't flung the silver aside and had at it right on the servants table already."

They were back in the cottage and John had told Anna about the little exchange he saw between Charles and Elsie. Anna thought of them as parents and preferred to avoid that particular mental image. She swatted him in the arm. "Stop it!"

He was teasing her now. He gave her a goofy grin and mimed groping. "Right in the middle of the servants hall! They're going to crack some day."

Anna rolled her eyes. "We would all die of shock."

"I wouldn't. I would applaud." He was half-serious.

"Well it's never going to happen."

"And why not? We happened."

"Because Mr. Carson..." She considered for a moment. "He just wouldn't... he wouldn't think it was right. He wouldn't think it was good for the _honor of the house._" She added a hint of sarcasm to the last statement. Carson really could take the whole honor thing entirely too seriously.

John had moved on. "Did you meet the new gardener? He's young, but he seems like a good lad." He was walking around their bedroom, changing. Anna didn't reply. She was brushing her hair and thinking about Carson and Mrs. Hughes. She had sensed for years that they felt more affection for one another then they showed, but she was certain nothing had ever happened between them. There was a boundary there and she didn't think either of them would cross it. But why shouldn't they? Didn't they deserve happiness just like she and John had?

* * *

Charles was pacing now. He was trying to decide what to say to her. This was the second time in as many weeks that she had disappeared to the village without telling him. Mrs. Patmore had let it slip again. He felt entirely uneasy about it. It was her right, of course; he wasn't her keeper and she wasn't obligated to tell him when she went to the village for a simple errand. But she had always mentioned it to him anyway. He couldn't remember a single time she hadn't told him. Until now.

He stopped pacing around his office and sat back down in his chair. He was being ridiculous. She was a grown woman and he had no right to know her every movement. Suddenly his eyes widened and his mouth dropped. What if she was seeing somebody? The thought popped into his mind for the first time. He had been worried something was wrong. It hadn't occurred to him that perhaps she was visiting someone. A man. His mind reeled for a moment and he covered his eyes with his hand, pinching the top of his nose and forcing the image from his thoughts.

"Are you alright?" Anna stood in his doorway, looking at him apprehensively. He hadn't heard her appear. She hesitated... Mr. Carson looked stunned.

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. "What? Oh, yes, Anna, I'm fine." He didn't even think to ask her what she was doing there. Anna stepped into his office. "Are you quite sure?"

"Yes Mrs. Hughes has just stepped out to the village and I was..." He heard her name tumble out of his mouth. Why had he even said that? He didn't know where he was going with it. Anna held her questioning look on him.

"Can I help you with something, Anna?" He regained himself.

"Oh yes," Anna continued, although she still looked at him curiously, "Mr. Bates asked me to tell you that Lord Grantham has decided to go shooting tomorrow. He's sure his Lordship would have told you tonight, but he thought he would give you a head start on the preparations."

Work distracted him. He quickly went back to his usual self. "Ah yes, please tell Mr. Bates I appreciate the notice."

As Anna receded back toward the kitchen, his thoughts drifted back to Elsie. _What was she up to?_


	3. Chapter 3

While they waited for the results of the biopsy, Dr. Clarkson asked Mrs. Hughes to stop by once a week for a brief checkup. There wasn't much of anything they could do in the meantime, but he wanted to keep an eye on her nonetheless. He would be mortified if something happened to her and if Lord Grantham found out he had given her anything less than the utmost care. It didn't escape him what it would be like to fall out of favor with his Lordship. Best not to risk it.

Elsie sighed as she shrugged on her coat. She had sworn Beryl to secrecy but she knew her absences had been noted by some. John had caught her with Charles the first time, so no doubt Anna knew too, although she had been too graceful to ask.

She walked slowly back to the house. And Charles. What in the bloody hell had gotten into him? He had been distant and snippish ever since she began this whole ordeal, it seemed. The last time she got back she found him waiting, again, and he'd actually grunted disapprovingly at her. She'd almost lashed out at him. He had no right.

But her anger had quickly given way to sadness. If she allowed herself to think about it, which she rarely did, she wished more than anything that she could rely on him now. She sometimes found herself daydreaming about his arms around her. When they sat together at the servants' table, it was hard not to notice his broad chest and strong shoulders. She wondered what it would be like to lay her head on his chest. To lean her weight and the weight of all this against him and let him help her with it.

She pursed her lips. Well that was not to happen so no use thinking about it. Opening the back door, she was momentarily relieved to find the passageway empty. At the end of the hall she heard Beryl shouting something at Ivy in the kitchen. She sighed and went to referee.

* * *

Anna looked down at John. He was tugging at the blankets and closing his eyes. She absentmindedly traced her fingers through his chest hair. "John?"

"mmmm"

"I'm worried about Mrs. Hughes."

He lazily opened one eye to look up at her sitting on the bed beside him, leaning against the headboard. She rested her book against her stomach and looked down at him. He could see the concern on her face and gently ran his hand over her thigh. "Whatever for?"

"I don't know. She's acting strangely. She keeps disappearing down the village and Carson has been acting very strange toward her."

John had noticed Carson's behavior, actually. Usually he and Mrs. Hughes were their team leaders, so to speak. They were obviously friends, and he suspect there were more feelings between them beneath the surface, but recently they had been acting... odd. He had heard Carson nearly snap at Mrs. Hughes a few times and Mrs. Hughes looked downright furious with him. It was like they were fighting about something but as far as he could tell, never spoke about it.

He'd almost laughed at them once. Carson was grumbling about something or other and Mrs. Hughes was snorting and rolling her eyes at him. "Lovers quarrel?" He had mused to himself, suppressing his smile. But, as always, he did not feel it was right to intervene in others' business. And that's exactly what it was. None of his business.

"I'm sure they'll work it out."

"I hope so. But do you think..."

John sat up to kiss Anna. He didn't want her to get too focused on it. He truly did not believe in meddling in other people's affairs. Between Vera and Thomas and O'Brien he had had more than enough problems with other people meddling in his own life. He would not serve the same on anyone else. "They will" he whispered, kissing her again. He laid back down, pulling her on top of him.

* * *

Carson froze behind the door in his office. His door was slightly ajar and it was unusually quiet downstairs. He could hear Elsie's voice at the end of the hall. She was telling Mrs. Patmore that she would be back later that afternoon. Mrs. Patmore asked her if she was alright by herself, but Elsie assured her she was fine. He peeked around the door to see Mrs. Patmore turn toward the kitchen, looking worried. His pulse quickened and he felt nervous heat rising up his neck. Charles frowned and realized he was clenching his fists.

Quickly, he pulled his hat and coat from the rack next to the door. Thinking, he placed them on his chair and casually strolled out of his office, toward the servant's hall. Glancing into the kitchen, he saw that Mrs. Patmore was battling with an enormous bread dough and Daisy was rushing about with bread pans. Looking into the hall, he was relieved to find no one. The maids were busy upstairs and the footmen were attending to pre-dinner duties. He turned quietly, retrieved his hat and coat, and snuck out the back door.

* * *

He skulked along behind her until it occurred to him that if anyone saw him practically clinging to the garden wall he would look mad. So instead he puttered for a moment and let her get further ahead of him so he would not attract her attention.

As they got to the edge of the village, more people appeared on the path. A few tipped their hats at him in recognition. Charles realized he should have a cover story in case anyone tried to chat with him, but nothing seemed plausible at the moment. "Just running errands," he nodded noncommittally at a few acquaintances. That would have to do. He kept his head down and tried to look focused on something important.

* * *

She rounded a corner ahead of him and his stomach fell. She was headed in the direction of the hospital. Oh, gods, she was sick again. A wave of dread overtook him. He felt sick himself. And he had been such an ass to her recently! He had thought she was seeing someone. He didn't even know why he was there, he just couldn't seem to help himself. He had been telling himself to keep his nose out of it but mere thought of her with... he could never even finish the thought. He pictured her smile, her laugh, and her hand holding a faceless man's hand and it made his adrenaline surge. These last few weeks he had hardly been able to think of anything else. But oh, god, she was sick. He felt awful.

Charles rounded the corner carefully and his suspicion was confirmed. He saw her half a block ahead. She was just about to pull open the door to the hospital. He let out a tormented sigh and watched her wistfully. Suddenly someone shouted his name.

"Charlie Carson!"

What in the bloody hell! He wheeled about and instinctively ducked, even though he was standing in the middle of the sidewalk and didn't have anything to duck behind. Quickly, he straightened up and tried to see who the hell was shouting his name. In the fraction of a second it took him to locate the man, he realized before he saw him that he recognized the voice. "_Oh, not now__!_" he muttered under his breath. His eyes fell on Charles Grigg.

He snapped his head back toward the hospital. Elsie was standing there, still holding the door handle in her hand. She was glaring at him.

His shoulders slumped. This was a disaster. He tried to give her an apologetic look. He saw shock and anger in her eyes. He sighed again. She dropped the door handle and turned toward him, then seemed to think better of it. Casting him one more angry glare, she opened the door and went in.


	4. Chapter 4

"Moron!" Carson spat at Grigg, lunging toward him and barely bothering to keep his voice down. "What the bloody hell were you thinking?" he hissed. His face was red and his mouth contorted in anger. Grigg was stunned. "I... had business nearby… I was going to call on you this afternoon…" He trailed off confusedly as Charles glared at him and turned and stormed away.

* * *

"Are you sure you're quite all right?" Dr. Clarkson looked at Mrs. Hughes hesitantly. She was obviously upset about something. He had been escorting a patient out and ran into her as she entered his waiting room. She ignored his question, looking back at the door she had just come through as if she were considering going back through it. "...are you... feeling alright?" he asked again.

She turned to face him now, realizing he was speaking to her. She shook her head slightly, composing herself. "Yes, Doctor, I'm fine. I was just... startled by something."

"Oh well, then, come in." He relaxed and gestured her toward the door.

What on earth had Charles been thinking? She was completely stunned at first and could only stare at him, standing there, half-crouched, like some giant confused bear. She didn't know who had called his name and she didn't particularly care. When he snapped his head back to look at her, it was then that she realized he had been following her. And now he was stupidly trying to hide from her while standing in the middle of the damned walkway.

Looking down at her hands, she realized they were shaking. She was embarrassed and frustrated. Her privacy felt suddenly and violently shattered.

She had half a mind to go back out there and give him a tongue lashing. What was he doing? She knew the look on his face when he caught her staring at him. Guilt. It wasn't one Charles had the opportunity to wear often. She snorted to herself. Through the fog of her thoughts she heard Dr. Clarkson asking if she was alright. She remembered where she was. "_Now he knows_" she thought to herself.

She frowned and stepped ahead of Dr. Clarkson into his office.

* * *

Charles was back in his office, pacing. He was so embarrassed. He had no idea what to say to her when she returned. He was dreading it, in fact. A stream of weak excuses paraded through his mind. He had just happened to be there. He had only just noticed that she was there. He'd been in the village for... "_come on_," he muttered under his breath to himself. He couldn't come up with a single decent reason for why he would have been in the village at all. His thoughts were bordering on frantic.

Finally he sighed and sank into his chair. He remembered her face, the look she had given him. He allowed himself to admit that there was no need for excuses. She had known. He knew all of her expressions. He knew he was caught. Now he just had to figure out how to explain himself. What had he been doing? He didn't even know the answer to that. Well, he supposed he did, but he almost never allowed himself to think about it. He pushed the thought from his mind.

He was flustered and confused, but certain on one thing; he had to apologize.

* * *

Elsie walked slowly back to the house. She was unsure what to expect. She thought about last time they had been through this. He had tried in his own awkward way to help her. It wasn't particularly helpful, but she found it sweet. Part of her was relieved he knew now. She still wondered why he'd been acting so harshly toward her recently. For a moment she wondered if he was so uppity that he was irritated that she was leaving the house at all. Spending a few hours not doing her duties.

No, she shook her head. She knew he was particular about their jobs, but even he wasn't that particular. Also, she pondered, that was one thing he always _did _speak up about. If he thought anyone was slacking in their duties, he would mention it immediately. She was sure that applied even to her.

But why would he follow her? Why wouldn't he just speak to her? She sighed in frustration.

* * *

Charles paced near the back door, fidgeting nervously. John saw him out of the corner of his eye and stepped closer. Mr. Carson seemed not to notice him. He was just standing there.

"Everything alright?" John asked tentatively.

Charles turned his head and looked at John. His eyes were distant, preoccupied. Even a bit nervous. John was confused and curious, but his face wore no expression.

"Yes... yes, Mr. Bates" Carson offered with a short nod, but he continued standing there, doing nothing. He was rocking up and down on the balls of his feet now. It was very peculiar.

John considered for a moment and raised his eyebrows. "Mrs. Hughes is in the village, I take it?"

Charles didn't seem to notice the implication in the question. "She should be back shortly. Any minute now." He continued standing there, looking alternately at the back door and the wall in front of him.

"Alright, then." John slowly backed away, keeping his eyes on Mr. Carson. Carson was ignoring him now. It was oddly fascinating. Something had completely taken over him. John could not help himself from wondering what on earth was going on.

From the other side of the hall, he saw Anna approaching. He waved at her to stop and be quiet. She gave him a confused look but stopped in her tracks. As quietly as he could, John crossed over to her. Indicating with his chin, they climbed the stairs together wordlessly.

* * *

**A/N - Dance like nobody's watching and review like nobody updates until you do**


	5. Chapter 5

As Elsie walked, her frustration softened. Perhaps he was concerned about her. She chuckled to herself at the thought. She didn't have long to relish it, though, as it immediately reminded her that she might not be well.

Charles could certainly be awkward. She knew that better than anyone, she reckoned. Fighting her nervousness over Dr. Clarkson's words, she resigned herself and made her way back up the hill to the house. She was tempted to feel happy about Charles following her – flattered, even. Maybe he had been there because he cared for her and was concerned for her. She let her mind drift into that fantasy for a moment as the gravel crunched under her shoes.

* * *

Elsie pulled open the back door and immediately caught Charles's profile. His hands were grasped behind him and his head turned quickly to look at her. Wordlessly, he faced her and she met his eyes before turning aside to hang up her coat and hat.

"I should apologize…" he started.

"For what, exactly?" She asked. Echoing in her ears she recognized that her voice sounded harsher than she had intended.

"For today, I was…"

Elsie cut him off instinctually. "Out of line."

Charles stiffened. He was still angry and frustrated that she refused to let him in. "How was I to know what was going on?" he challenged her.

Elsie's mouth tightened at the rebuke and her old walls quickly went back up. "I didn't realize that my coming and going was entirely of your concern." She shot back.

"Of course it is" Charles hissed. "I have the propriety of this house to take care of." He heard the words after they were out of his mouth and he knew he would pay for them.

"Oh! So that's what you were doing?" She mocked sarcastically. Levelling her eyes at him angrily, "taking care of the propriety of the house?"

Charles's mouth twisted into an agitated frown and he looked toward the ceiling. He could wring Grigg's neck at this moment.

"And that's why you felt it appropriate to stalk me into the village? Do you care for nothing other than the running of this stupid house?" Her emotion was about to get away from her and she caught it. Charles heard the hint of an uptick in her tone and it pierced his heart.

He looked into Elsie's eyes. Her mouth was tight and he could see her anger flaring, hot and white. There was nothing to be won here. Giving her one last frustrated grimace, he cast his eyes down and stalked away.

Still standing in front of the back door, Elsie felt her heartbeat in her ears as she watched Charles walk away down the hallway in the servants' hall. Surprising herself, she suddenly felt her breath catch in her throat and tears threaten her eyes. She shook her head and took a deep breath, forcing her shoulders back. Her bottom lip began to tremble, but she pursed them together and turned toward her sitting room, quickly wiping the corner of her eye.

* * *

Beryl, Anna, and Daisy stood frozen in the kitchen, looking at one another with wide eyes. Beryl's hand was still clasped over Daisy's mouth, where she had planted it when Daisy walked in and started to ask what all the commotion was.

As Carson's footsteps approached, all three tried suddenly to look very busy. Skipping the kitchen, they heard his footfalls echoing up the stairs as the sound of Mrs. Hughes' door bang closed reverberated from the other end of the hall.

They stared at one another in silence for another moment before Daisy started to say something. Mrs. Patmore quickly interrupted her. "Take the towels to the laundry." She instructed, gently but firmly. Confused, Daisy looked at Anna, who only offered a quick nod of agreement. Frowning, she scooped up the pile of dirty tea towels and disappeared out the back.

Mrs. Patmore sighed loudly. "Do you think we should..." Anna began.

"No." Mrs. Patmore cut her off quietly. "Give her a minute to compose herself."

Anna leaned back to look down the hall at Mrs. Hughes' closed door. She turned back to watch Mrs. Patmore, who had resumed shelling peas with consternation.

"What was that about?" Anna posed, almost rhetorically.

"That was about two decades in the making is what that was about." Mrs. Patmore muttered as her hands worked.

"What?" Anna looked confused.

"Never you mind." Mrs. Patmore replied with finality.

As Anna turned to head up to the house she heard Mrs. Patmore's voice behind her again "And perhaps..." Anna turned back to face her. "...we shouldn't mention this to the others." It was a gentle suggestion.

Thinking, Anna nodded her agreement. "Of course." Before she could ask, Mrs. Patmore answered, "I'll speak to Daisy."

* * *

Charles marched into the front entryway, his irritation flaring into anger. She could be so impossible. He clenched and unclenched his fists as his adrenaline surged. Sweat beaded at his temples and he fought back a sudden urge to take the lamp from the foyer table and throw it against the wall.

Lord Grantham was absentmindedly flipping through some telegrams on his way to the library. As he approached, he spoke casually to Carson. "Ah, Carson, I'll take some tea if you have a moment."

Before Charles could reply, he glanced up and was startled by the expression on his butler's face. Suddenly Thomas glided into view and with his usual unsettling silkiness offered, "I can certainly take care of that, My Lord."

Carson and Lord Grantham both turned toward the new arrival. "Yes, of course. Thank you." Lord Gratham replied. Charles nodded curtly at Thomas.

Turning back to Carson, Lord Grantham's expression was apprehensive. "Are you... quite alright?" Without hesitation Charles replied, "Perfectly, my Lord," but his face remained masked in anger. Lord Grantham didn't believe him, but his manners kept him from pressing further.

"Very well then." He paused for a moment to see if the butler would offer anything further but Carson gave only a short nod. They parted ways and he moved toward the library, but could not help looking back over his shoulder at Carson's disappearing figure.

* * *

.

.

A/N Reviews welcome, as always.


	6. Chapter 6

Elsie threw her handbag on her desk and stared at it. She was shaking with adrenaline but didn't notice. Their fight replayed in her mind until it was overtaken by a blank sadness.

She felt foolish. Foolish and ashamed. She had let herself be hopeful and it was a stupid mistake. She sank into her chair, gritting her teeth to keep herself from crying. She was too old for this foolishness.

"_The propriety of the house_." It echoed as loudly in her mind as if he were standing there shouting it at her again. She could see his irritated face close to hers, glaring at her. "He doesn't care about me." She snorted at the thought. He only cared about his damned propriety. Her sadness mixed with anger as she looked back on so much wasted time.

The awkwardness of her lost privacy surged back at her. She was suddenly overwhelmed with wishing he did not know. She felt vulnerable and exposed and she didn't want him to see her that way, not now. Because now that he knew...

Elsie paused. Thinking. Abruptly, she let out a sarcastic gasp of laughter. "Oh my god," she said aloud to herself. _He hadn't asked_. He hadn't even asked. There it was. Exposed before her. All this - following her to the village, seeing her go to Doctor Clarkson - and he hadn't even asked why. He didn't even care such a tiny fraction of a bit about her as to bother to ask. Every feeling she was holding deflated.

Now the tears did come. The realization tore open a new, fresh wound within her and it was all too much in one day. She dropped her face into her hands and cried.

* * *

Charles's temper began to cool after he finished shouting at the new hall boys he caught slacking off behind the garage. He still felt a knot of frustration lodged in his chest, but at least his thoughts began to clear.

Why was she always so impossible? He had been trying to apologize! What was so difficult about that? He winced with embarrassment as he thought of their fight. "The propriety of the house." That was stupid of him to say. It wasn't even true. Not with her.

"_For what, exactly?_" Her words danced in front of him. He squirmed under the awkwardness just thinking about it, twisting his neck and looking briefly at the ceiling above him. _For what. For what_. A mix of emotions swirled through him but he didn't dare turn any of them into sentences in his thoughts.

He was pacing the upstairs corridors where he knew it was unlikely he would be disturbed. "I was worried about her," he told himself. "I followed her because I was worried about her." But he knew it was a lie. He had thought she might have a suitor. The thought still made his stomach turn uncomfortably.

But now he was worried about her because... oh, god - he stopped in his tracks, his eyes growing wide - he hadn't asked. All this stupid drama and he hadn't even... he'd been angry that she hid things from him, important things, and he'd stormed off. Charles sighed, exasperated. He knew instinctively that he had made it worse.

"Maybe it's nothing, just an ordinary visit," he thought. Going to the doctor didn't necessarily mean that one was ill. The sinking pit in his stomach told him otherwise. She had gone several times. It had to be more serious. Of course she was short with him, she was probably terrified. And he had yelled at her and stormed away. Oh, god. He felt like such a fool.

Charles pinched the bridge of his nose, angry with himself. "_For what, exactly?_" He still didn't have an answer. He had to speak to Elsie.

* * *

Beryl tapped gently on Elsie's door. It had been about an hour. "Come in," came the reply.

She poked her head in and Elsie visibly relaxed. "I thought we might have tea?"

"Of course," Elsie was relieved. Glad it was not Charles. She stood up from her desk to sit opposite Beryl at the table in her sitting room.

"What did the doctor say?" Beryl began.

"Nothing much, he thinks I'm fine but he wants to run tests. Just like last time." Elsie sighed at the end and looked down at her hands clasping her teacup.

"I'm sure it will be alright." Beryl tried to sound positive but the worry carried in her voice. Elsie smiled at her sadly.

"Is... everything else alright?" Beryl continued carefully.

Elsie's eyes shot back up. "What do you mean?"

"Ah..." Beryl paused, Elsie's eyebrows furrowed, "today, you and Mr. Carson seemed... upset."

Elsie gasped. "You heard us?"

Beryl rolled her eyes and sighed with exasperation. "_The kitchen is fifteen steps from the door,"_ she said pragmatically.

Elsie looked around the room, consumed in her thoughts for a moment. Beryl continued, "don't worry, only Anna," pausing, "and Daisy, but I spoke to her and she knows to keep quiet," she added quickly.

Elsie sighed loudly and leaned back in her chair. Apparently her entire private life was being aired today. Wonderful.

Beryl stood up. She had said her bit. She looked at Elsie, who was looking down at her cup. "He cares about you." Elsie looked up at her friend, frowning. "No, he doesn't." Beryl paused. "Well, I disagree." With that, she turned and left the sitting room. Elsie stared at the back of the door for a moment after she left.


	7. Chapter 7

Elsie was exhausted. She'd managed to avoid him for the better part of two days. Meals had been awkward and he had tried to get her attention but she wasn't up to dealing with him yet. She forced herself to keep busy in the house and, truth be told, a butler and a housekeeper has less need of interaction than they usually alotted for.

The family was eating dinner upstairs, so she took the opportunity to get a few things downstairs when she wouldn't have to worry about running into him. Coming around the corner into the kitchen, Beryl raised her eyebrows at her. She probably could tell she was avoiding him. Elsie rolled her eyes at her in reply.

Turning into her sitting room, she found Charles sitting at her desk.

"What are you doing in here?" She blurted out, startled. "What about dinner?" He hadn't even changed. What was going on?

Pausing patiently, he appraised her for a moment. "Thomas needs the practice. I'm not going to be the butler forever, you know." He stood and raised his eyebrows at her as he said the last bit. "And it's only the family tonight." She frowned at him. Of course that was still his first concern.

Elsie closed the door. He saw her mouth tighten. He had to be careful. "I wasn't aware they had taken your office away." She snipped at him. This was exactly what she had been trying to avoid. "Or does Thomas require that too?"

He wasn't going to take her bait. Not right now. He waited.

Elsie looked around. He had his ledgers out on her desk. "How long have you been in here?"

"Oh, about two hours," he waved a hand at her desk, "your chair is awful. I don't know how you stand it."

"What?" She was pleasantly surprised but tried not to show it. "What for?"

"You've been avoiding me." He said it firmly, but not crossly. She waited for him to continue. "And I think we both know I owe you an apology." He paused. "I'm sorry that I followed you."

Elsie braced herself for the lecture she felt coming. She had been thinking about it for two days and she was sadly certain that he had been honest with her before. He was concerned about the running of the damned house. Impatient and feeling her irritation bubbling, she snapped at him. "And?"

Charles looked confused. "And what?"

"And you want to know if I can do my duties." She mocked seriousness. "Is that it?"

"What? No..." He stepped toward her, "I was..." He trailed off.

"You were what?" She was on the brink of anger again now.

He'd been sitting in her parlor for hours, waiting for this conversation, and he still didn't really have a good answer. If he were honest, he had hoped he could just apologize and then they could go back to normal. He should have known Elsie wouldn't let him off that easy.

He shook his head and put his hands out. She was glaring at him angrily. "We should keep our voices down" he implored. Elsie fought the urge to leave and slam the door in his face.

"I am on your side" Charles blurted out.

"I have a hard time believing that."

Charles looked like he'd been burned. "Why on earth would you say that?"

The mental and physical exhaustion boiled over and Elsie was suddenly entirely fed up. "Because you don't care."

Charles was shattered. He stepped toward her quickly, opening his mouth to speak but no words came out. He saw her lip begin to tremble and it broke him. "Please tell me what's going on," he whispered. His hands were still outstretched and hovered on either side of her.

Elsie was clearly fighting back tears now and a feeling of fear gripped him. "Please tell me it's not that bad..." he implored quietly.

"No it's not.." She hiccuped quickly and without thinking Charles wrapped his arms around her. He intended just to comfort her but instead of putting her head on his chest she looked up at him. Charles felt his breath stop in his throat, saw the tears in the corners of her eyes, and suddenly... he kissed her.

Elsie was shocked when he embraced her. She'd imagined the moment many times and it was even nicer than she had dreamed. She was not a petite woman but she felt tiny in his arms with her hands resting on his chest. Unknowingly, she held her breath when she looked up at him. She could see the concern on his face, the anxiety in his eyes. Time seemed frozen for an instant before she felt his lips on hers.

* * *

After a few moments, Elsie wrapped her hands around his neck and he held her even more tightly, wrapping his arms around her waist. Eventually, Charles pulled his head back and looked at her. Elsie was smiling sheepishly, but the smile crinkled all the way to the corners of her eyes.

"We're not supposed to do that," he mused quietly. But she could see he was suppressing a smile and he kept his arms wrapped tightly around her waist.

"Now, will you tell me?"

Elsie still could not entirely believe this was happening. In her parlor, no less. It felt a little bit like a dream - surreal. She let him hold her and relaxed a little, pulling her hands back to his chest. "The same as before. Dr. Clarkson wants to run tests."

"When will you know?" He lowered his gaze now and looked at her intently. She noticed, pointedly, that he had not said "we."

"A few months, at least." She sighed and looked away. He moved his arms to her shoulders and did hug her now.

Releasing her, he stepped back. It was like a spell had been broken. "Please, tell me if I can do anything." She could hear the sincerity in his voice, but it was as if the space between them had suddenly become an ocean. Confused, she stared at him. Charles sighed. She stood, frozen with realization. "We can't do this," he whispered with his hand held out in front of him, gesturing at the space between them, the sadness and frustration leaking through his voice.

She stood stiffly as he nodded at her with his lips drawn firmly together, before turning and opening her door.

* * *

Charles felt his heart racing and his pulse beating in his ears as he turned to leave her sitting room. He knew his hands were shaking from the effort of fighting back everything that threatened to rise in his chest. As he turned to close her door behind him, the last glimpse he saw was her with her hand flying to her mouth, her eyes bright and red. He sensed Mrs. Patmore's eyes on him as he stood in the hallway, catching his breath. It occurred to him that he should check on Thomas. Pulling off his tie angrily, he turned and stomped upstairs to change into his dinner jacket.

* * *

.

.

.

* * *

**A/N - Review it like you want it. The next update will be quicker. I had a bit of a crazy week and apologize for the delay**


	8. Chapter 8

Elsie recovered quickly. She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. After all, it wasn't like they had never been down this road before. She could still vividly remember the first time he had kissed her. It's was two and a half years ago, on Christmas Day.

* * *

Christmas had been hectic, as it always was. Family and friends were visiting and the staff had been running around trying to keep up. Finally they were dismissed to their own celebration downstairs, and the servants could afford to indulge a little, as the next day was Boxing Day and most of them had at least the morning off.

Charles allowed wine with their supper, which was not unusual for special occasions, but she noticed that he seemed to be indulging more than usual. They had so few days off - it felt well deserved.

As supper wound down the two of them retired to her sitting room and Charles allowed the younger servants to continue celebrating. Several of them were going to visit their families the following day. The ones who had families, at least.

They sat and chatted with the sounds of happy laughter resonating through Elsie's door from the dining hall outside. Charles poured himself another glass of wine and she declined. It was amusing to see him this relaxed and she had smiled, noticing the flush rising in his cheeks but resisted the opportunity for a teasing comment. Watching him, she was surprised when he absentmindedly loosened his tie.

She was enjoying his company but, after a while, rose and told him that she ought to go to bed. He agreed and stood with her. She paused and smiled at him, taking in this rare opportunity to observe a slightly-drunk Charles.

Suddenly his expression changed and it caught her attention. His relaxed smile transformed into a look of determination and before she even realized what was happening, his arms were around her and his face hovered over her own. "Charles!" She'd blurted out in surprise but did not resist him.

He'd waited, for a moment, gauging her reaction and looking into her eyes. When she relaxed and did not object, he'd kissed her, lovingly and slowly.

Eventually he released her, smiling - or perhaps smirking was a better description - and she smiled back at him. With one last look at her, he quietly left her sitting room.

She felt euphoric. Shocked, but euphoric. They had already worked together for two decades and she immediately realized what had just happened. She was a strong woman, but they worked under a very old social code. He had just told her what he felt, without saying it.

* * *

Elsie sighed. That Christmas felt a very long time ago.


	9. Chapter 9

There had been a handful of other times, since. Always isolated – like desert islands in a vast sea. After Charles kissed her that Christmas, she felt excited and hopeful. But, the next morning at breakfast, he was unusually distant and stern to the staff. She could tell he felt awkward and she sensed what turned out to be true – that he would not speak with her about it. Elsie was disappointed, but not shocked. The kiss was so out of character, looking back, she should have known he would be mortified with himself once the wine wore off.

She'd also questioned whether he was simply just drunk, despite how unlike Charles that seemed. Down that road it was somehow even more disappointing, almost as if the entire scenario transformed into a mirage. She'd held that question until Mathew died the following summer, in 1921. Elsie wasn't nearly as close with the family as Charles was, but, despite her occasional frustration, she respected how he felt about them.

It was a short time after the funeral. Mary was distraught and Charles seemed practically as upset as her. He came into Elsie's sitting room one evening, looking like he might be on the verge of tears. Elsie was surprised, to say the least, and swallowed the sarcastic snip that immediately rose to mind. Seeing the sincere sadness on his face, she'd nervously asked him "are you alright?" Charles crossed the room to her and she rose out of her chair. Suddenly again, his arms were around her and he'd kissed her, but with intensity that time. Like before, she'd relaxed into his grip and wrapped her arms around his neck after a moment. She had felt his shoulders ease before he released her and quietly turned from her room.

The entire thing had been less than half a minute before he was gone again, and she'd found herself trying to catch her breath and wondering what just happened. Charles hadn't said a word. But, over time, she understood.

* * *

Elsie was pacing in her bedroom. She tried to read but threw the book onto her dressing table after a few moments. She felt angry. Angry and frustrated. "What is he playing at?" She thought to herself.

But she wasn't really angry and she quickly let it go. She kept replaying the kiss from two days ago in her mind. The following morning Charles had been predictably annoying. He all but ignored her and she could sense how uncomfortable he was. They did this every time.

She was fed up. He couldn't talk about it. But she wanted to talk about it. Over two years! It was ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. She decided she was entirely fed up.

Pulling on her robe and stepping out of her bedroom, Elsie froze for a moment, silent. It was well past midnight and the staff had gone to bed over an hour ago. She listened to the hallway and heard nothing. Her bedroom was the largest and the first, closest to the stairs. Turning instead down the hall, she moved quietly, avoiding the one exceptionally creaky floorboard, and gently removed the key from the wall by the door.

Turning the knob in her hand so it would not click, she slowly turned the key as the sound of the lock opening seemed to bellow through the hall. She froze again, but there were no other sounds. Rehanging the key, she gently opened the door and heard the sounds of soft snoring from the men's side of the hall. Quietly shutting the unlocked door behind her, she padded down the hall. She knew his room, like hers, was at the opposite end.

Approaching, she saw light creeping out from under his door and knew that he was still awake. She tapped twice.

* * *

Charles was awake, reading but unsettled. He couldn't sleep. He heard the tap at his door and rolled his eyes, putting his book on the bedside table. Looking after footmen felt often like looking after schoolchildren. They pestered him with every little inconvenience or dispute. Sometimes he wondered how any of them managed to survive into adulthood at all. Tiredly, he pulled open his door and was about to ask "_what is it now?_" when he saw Elsie standing there with her finger to her lips.

Shocked, he mimed "what are you doing!" with his mouth and, quickly poking his head out to confirm that no one was in the corridor, he pulled her by the elbow into his room and shut the door.

Now he did ask her, in hushed tones, "_what are you doing_?"

Elsie was about to glare at him, annoyed and unflattered at how shocked he seemed, but she took a breath and paused. They stood in silence for a moment and Charles composed himself as best he could. He was in his pyjamas and she was in her nightdress and robe.

"I need to speak to you" Elsie began, quietly.

"Right now?" He whispered back.

"I think so."

He looked at her, waiting. Willing himself not to look at her in her robe. Taking a moment, Elsie looked around the room. His shoes were kicked in the corner. His livery was hung in the open wardrobe door and his dirty shirts were tossed across the chair. She recognized the suit that he often wore to town and the jacket was spread across the back of the chair and the trousers were on top of it. Turning to look at his dressing table, his pocketwach and wallet lay on top. Along with a scattering of pieces of paper and various cufflinks. His towel hung off the edge of an open drawer and she could see his socks inside.

She raised an eyebrow at him. Standing stiffly, Charles glanced around. "I didn't know you were coming up here."

She raised her other eyebrow.

"I spend my entire day straightening things. I don't bother in here."

"I thought you conducted room inspections?" She challenged teasingly.

He looked around again with a tiny smirk. "The inspector doesn't get inspected."

"But I've been up here…"

"When I've been sick." He finished for her. "It only takes a moment to scoop the laundry up and shut the wardrobe door" He paused. "It took me forever to get the creases out of my pants after they sat at the bottom of the wardrobe for a week," he remembered absentmindedly. Elsie couldn't help but smile.

Elsie turned and sat on his bed. Charles looked surprised. She gestured toward the clothes-covered chair. "I want to speak to you. You can pull the chair up."

Charles hesitated. "Oh… that chair is broken. If I put much more than shirts on it, it's going to collapse." Frowning - she had used that chair relatively recently - she now noticed the crack creeping up the front leg. "Thanks for warning me" she filed in the back of her mind.

Charles looked back at Elsie and she obligingly moved over. He sat on the bed beside her.

She reached between them and took his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers. He sighed and hung his head.

"Elsie..." he began, frustrated.

Putting her other hand on his chest, she pushed him back on the bed.

* * *

.

.

.

**Almost forgot:**

**Don't you remember, you told me you'd review me baby?**  
**You said you'd be coming back this way again baby**  
**  
**


	10. Chapter 10

"What are you doing?" He was trying to keep his voice down.

She repeated herself. "I want to speak with you."

"Not like this!" He was trying to be forceful while whispering and pushing up on his elbows. Elsie still sat at the foot of his bed. His legs hung off at an awkward angle and he looked at her with genuine confusion. He started to sit up further, but she looked at him sternly and he hesitated.

Elsie scooted back and flopped on her back next to him. Charles tried to look at her but she stared at the ceiling. Giving up, he leaned back and laid next to her.

The bed was tiny and they were stiff and awkward.

Elsie began. "What are we doing?"

He knew the depth of the question went beyond tonight. The barking dog in the back of his mind, the one that told him what they were doing wasn't right, was there, but he ignored it. He didn't have an answer.

Charles closed his eyes. Elsie fidgeted, shifting her shoulders. He raised his right arm to give her more space, lifting it across the pillow. Surprised, but glad that she wasn't going to fall on the floor, she shifted closer to him.

She fidgeted again, moving her shoulders and then her hips. "Your mattress is nicer than mine." She thought aloud with a hint of irritation.

"Mm." Charles agreed, his eyes still closed. "I got a new one for myself last year."

"What?" Her annoyance was a touch real now, but she kept it inside.

"I'm not exactly the youngest person in this house."

She raised her eyebrows, thinking. He was probably the oldest person in this house, actually.

Reading her mind, Charles opened one eye to look at her. "Don't say it." He would never admit it, but it was nice, laying here beside her.

He closed his eyes again and she turned to face him. He was still on his back and she let her right hand fall across his stomach. She felt his right hand curl around her and rest on her lower back.

"That's funny," she began softly, "I don't recall you asking me if I wanted a new mattress."

"And why would I?"

"You're not the only old dog in this house."

He smiled faintly, eyes still closed. "And how exactly would that have appeared?"

Elsie didn't answer the question, but instead began slow strokes with her fingers against his pyjama top. Charles sighed and turned his head toward her, but kept his eyes closed. Leaning her chin into his shoulder, she unbuttoned his top button, and then the second. She felt his hand on her back almost imperceptibly push her closer to him.

Undoing the third and fourth buttons, he gently grabbed her wrist with his left hand. Looking up at him, she saw worry in his eyes. She struggled to read him - he wasn't resisting her, but he looked concerned. For a moment she thought "surely he knows I'm well past childbearing age" as she watched his expression.

"It's all right," she whispered softly, and he let go of her wrist, letting her rest her hand back on his chest. He could have pushed her away, but did not. He closed his eyes again and rested his head back on the pillow. It was a confusing signal, but she took a tentative step forward.

Gently, Elsie undid the last buttons and slowly slid her hand inside his pyjama top, starting at his stomach and gliding her hand upward. Suddenly, she gasped.

As quickly as she gasped, she fought the urge to laugh and slapped her hand across her mouth. Forcing her own hand away, she reached down and pushed the left side of his pyjama top open. Running her fingers though his black and silver chest hair, she took in the large tattoo of a bird on the left side of his chest, above his heart.

After staring at it for a moment - she'd never seen one this close - she looked up at him. Charles still had his eyes closed, but he was wincing. Looking back down, she ran her thumb along the edges of the lines. His chest hair grew through it, like an old icon hiding in a forest. "This looks old," she remarked.

"It was a very, very long time ago."

"I like it." She was honest.

"No, you don't."

She frowned at him but his eyes were still closed. Thinking, she asked, "do the men know?"

He opened an eye at her now. "Of course not."

"All this time?"

"I've told you before. It's a period in my life that I do not prefer to advertise."

"So, does anybody...?" She trailed off. He understood her question.

"Now, only you."

Elsie looked at him. Charles closed his eyes again. He had shared a secret with her. It felt like a door had been unlocked. It might be one door amid a long hallway, but at least it was one more door.

She leaned over him and kissed the edges of the tattoo. She murmured, this time with more emphasis, "I like it."

She felt him stiffen slightly to signal his rejection of her comment, but at the same time she shifted her weight to her elbow and lifted herself over him, straddling his thighs.

Eyes still closed, he whispered a reluctant warning, "Elsie..." but his hands now gripped her hips tightly. Focusing on his reaction, Elsie continued kissing his chest and ran her hands across his shoulders and onto his arms. She moved her kisses to his neck and heard and felt a low growl there. At the same time, his right hand moved lower, to her bottom, and his left drifted up her side. Against her stomach, she could feel his attention. As she leaned over him again, his left thumb traced the bottom of her breast and he breathed against her forehead. "Which one is it?" he whispered.

It brought her back to reality for a moment. "The left."

She was still wearing her nightgown, but he cupped her right in his hand and leaned forward, so she was upright on top of him, and gingerly kissed her left breast through the fabric. Elsie was shocked and flattered and nearly overcome. Pushing him back down she pulled her nightgown up and felt his hands slide up to her naked thighs. Feeling that she had nothing on underneath, he stifled a groan.

She tugged at his pyjama bottoms and he raised his hips to help her, his eyes still closed. She positioned herself over him, with her hands on his chest, and hesitated. She felt his hands on her hips, urging her downward, and she lowered herself onto him.

At that moment, Charles' eyes flew open and were dark with lust. One arm wrapped around her waist and the other grabbed her hip and he bucked beneath her. Leaning over him, they found their rhythm and she pushed her face into his neck. "Just like that" she breathed. In a far corner of her attention, she realized that he had pulled out some of her hairpins.

He kept his movements steady but increased the pace until he felt her muscles tightening on top of him. He kept going as he felt her fingernails digging into his arms and her legs tightening around him. Finally, she pushed her face into his chest to stifle her moan and he felt her muscles contracting. When he felt her twitching around him, it was too much, and he gave in as well.

Panting, she relaxed on top of him. It did occur to her to say a silent prayer of thanks that his bed didn't squeak. Reaching up, she tugged out the last hairpins. She let her head fall onto his neck and he ran his fingers through her hair and down her back.

After a moment, she sat up from the bed and pulled her robe on. Charles reflexively tugged his pyjama bottoms back up and quickly buttoned his top. Standing, she smiled at him before leaning over and kissing him deeply. He kissed her back, but looked confused.

Turning, she closed his door softly behind her and he heard the faintest click of the hallway door. He stood and looked at his pocketwatch. It was 2:30 am. He laid back down and looked at his ceiling until dawn.

* * *

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N You guys are the best. You make writing fun.**


	11. Chapter 11

Charles' hands were shaking as he tried to tie his necktie. He took a breath and looked down as he clenched and unclenched his fists, willing them to still.

He had dozed intermittently during the night. It all felt like a dream. At one point, near dawn, he sprang awake again, panting and sweating. He had gotten out of bed and lit a candle, pacing. With his back to the door, he stared at his bed - and for a moment convinced himself that it had simply been a dream.

He'd taken a deep breath, calming himself. Just a dream. Closing his eyes, the vividness of it flashed in front of him and he pictured every curve, every movement. He felt the rustling of cotton over the backs of his hands and her breath against his neck...what she had whispered...

"Just a dream." He reminded himself.

When he opened his eyes, he saw something under the foot of his bed. A small white square. Feeling the nervousness creep back through him, he bent to retrieve it. It was a woman's handkerchief, delicate linen with pale green stitching around the edge and small embroidered flowers in one corner. Beneath the flowers, in tiny cross-stitch, read "E.H."

Charles crumpled the handkerchief in his hand and breathed toward the ceiling. Sitting back down on his bed, he unfolded it across his knee, smoothing the wrinkles. He carefully folded it into quarters and set it on his bedside table.

He stared at the linen square and it's delicate flowers as the blood surged through his head. It hadn't been a dream.

Finishing with his tie and shrugging on his coat, he turned. The linen square still sat next to his book. He picked it up, running his thumb over the embroidery, and tucked it inside his pocket.

* * *

Elsie was nervous as she dressed. She still couldn't quite believe herself - how forward she had been - but she wasn't upset. No use denying that. She was also more then a little apprehensive about seeing him this morning in the cool light of day, but she would cross that bridge when she came to it. Pinning her hair, she briefly suppressed a smile and prepared herself for breakfast.

* * *

Charles stared at his doorknob before going out. Now that the moment was here, he felt the waves washing over him. Mortification. Panic. He couldn't believe his behavior. He couldn't believe _her_ behavior. What had she been thinking? Didn't she know what was at stake here? He was angry with her, for putting him in this position.

Opening his door and turning toward the stairs, he heard the familiar chaos of breakfast below him. His stomach lurched into his throat and he gritted his teeth. In the middle of the night, after he got over the initial sheer shock, it had occurred to him that someone must have heard them. He'd nearly thrown up. He had no idea how much noise they had made - his mind had been completely elsewhere. But, surely, that much of a ruckus had been heard.

Walking into the servants' hall, Charles felt exposed. He half expected them to be jeering at him. He was momentarily relieved to see that Elsie was not yet there. Charles focused on maintaining his composure and strode toward his seat with his usual authority. As chairs scraped against the floor and everyone stood, he usually greeted them with a kind "good morning," but today could only manage a stiff nod of his head.

Sitting down, the sounds of voices and forks and knives scraping against plates resumed. Charles pretended to focus on his oatmeal, but stole glances around the table. Jimmy was telling a story about a girl he met in the village and Thomas was listening intently. Molesley and Miss Baxter were chatting together quietly as they ate. The other maids and servants were talking enthusiastically and the sound of Mrs. Patmore and Daisy fighting over the stove floated in from the kitchen. It seemed so bizarre - so bizarrely ordinary.

As he tried to wrap his head around the normalness of it all, Anna chimed in.

"Good morning, Mr. Carson" She smiled at him.

For a second he thought, "of all people, I would not expect it to be you."

He braced and turned toward her, a stiff smile on his lips. Holding a fork full of fruit, Anna looked up and seemed surprised at his expression. She recoiled slightly and Charles realized that she had been genuine. Trying to compose himself, he smiled back and bowed his head, "Good morning to you, Anna."

At that moment, Elsie walked in. Abruptly, Charles stood from the table. He didn't usually stand for other members of the staff and there was an awkward scramble and dropping of forks and napkins as everyone stood with him. Elsie said good morning and gave him an annoyed nod as she took her seat.

They ate in silence for a while. Her presence felt white-hot to him and he forced himself to keep his eyes down. After he managed to swallow a few bites, he allowed himself to look up at her. She met his gaze and gave him her normal small smile. He finally began to relax amid the usual routine. Maybe everything was not so different - until he looked back at Elsie. So subtly, she cocked one eyebrow at him with the shadow of a smirk and he dropped his fork, clattering to the floor. The reality seemed to explode and he quickly stood up, making excuses about vague duties before turning and leaving them behind.

As the servants clamored back to their feet, Anna noticed that Mrs. Hughes didn't stand. She quietly elbowed John and pointed with her chin. He looked surprised for a moment, but shook his head slightly, indicating that they should stay out of it. Anna sighed and looked back at him, and he nodded his affirmance. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Carson looking back over his shoulder at Mrs. Hughes before he disappeared upstairs.

* * *

Elsie paced around her sitting room. She knew she needed to push Charles' boundaries if anything was ever going to happen, but perhaps she had pushed too far. "No," she told herself, concluding. They had done what needed to be done. It was so many years in the making. She resolved herself in the finality of it. But, after breakfast, she felt her heart breaking and she knew what she had to do now. She would speak to Charles today.

* * *

Elsie found him that afternoon in his office. Usually he smiled warmly when she came in, but this time he stiffened awkwardly. Ignoring his response for the moment, she stood before his desk.

Mentally, she'd rehearsed her speech, but in the moment she decided to offer him one last chance. "Are you all right?"

It was a loaded question and he knew it. Charles grimaced and shifted in his chair. "Why would I be all right?"

"It doesn't have to be..." Elsie trailed off. She could usually find her words, but they escaped her now. She sighed in frustration. "I like what we have, and I would like to continue with what we have."

Charles gaped at her. "How can you say that? After last night?"

She strode closer to him, speaking quietly but confidently. "I believe we can find a way to make it work. The Bates'..."

He cut her off. "The Bates' are an exceptional circumstance and certainly not to be considered as a new standard of affairs"

Elsie stiffened. He had walked around his desk and they stood closely together now. He clasped his hands behind his back and she took another step toward him.

"Are you telling me that you want nothing further?" She searched his face, but he stared at the opposite wall.

"I'm sorry."

She swallowed the tears that threatened to erupt and stared at him. He refused to meet her gaze. Taking a deep breath, Elsie pushed away her anger, stepped back, and continued with her original plan.

"I'm going to leave Downton."

* * *

.

.

.

.

**Rockstars, all of you. Thank you for following along. **


	12. Chapter 12

Jimmy came skidding around the corner, nearly running full-tilt into John.

"Mr. Bates," he stammered, breathlessly.

Confused, John furrowed his brow. "What is it?"

"It's..." Jimmy hesitated, catching his breath, "...Mr. Carson."

"What?" John was alarmed now and realized Jimmy had come from the servants' quarters. "Is he in bed?"

"No... he's..." Jimmy frowned nervously in the way he often did. John didn't appreciate a soft underbelly.

"What is it?"

"I think he's sick."

"In what way?" Annoyed, John wished Jimmy would spit it out already.

"I went up to get my gloves and..." He looked around nervously.

"And?" John's patience was on the brink of running out.

"...I could hear him... In the washroom. At least i think it's him..."

John glared at Jimmy's nervous grimace.

"You know..." he continued, miming someone being physically ill. "Should we tell Mrs. Hughes?"

"No." John answered quickly and firmly. John was concerned but also respected a man's dignity and privacy, neither of which he knew Jimmy had particular concern for. "I'll check on him."

Jimmy nodded. John felt a reminder was appropriate. "For now, I suggest you keep this to yourself."

Pausing - Jimmy didn't usually get scolded by the older valet and was slightly surprised - he considered and nodded his agreement before walking away. John turned to head up the stairs.

* * *

Charles gripped the edge of the sink, feeling the sweat trickling down his brow. He was annoyed and flustered and didn't know what had come over him. After Elsie had told him - with such finality and such certainty - she left his office and he immediately felt unwell, dizzy and lightheaded. He took a few deep breaths to give her enough time to get out of the servants' hall, and decided he needed a moment himself. He started up the stairs to splash water on his face and get away but, as he climbed and her words began to sink in, he suddenly felt very ill and was lucky to stagger to the washroom in time to revisit his breakfast.

Panting after his last upheaval, Charles steadied himself against the sink and looked in the mirror. His response was not a glowing one. Wetting a washcloth, he wiped his mouth and forehead. Looking back in the mirror, he saw a few spots of vomit on his collar, although the rest of his livery seemed untouched. He sighed and tugged at his tie - he would have to change it.

Dabbing again at the sweat on his brow, he turned suddenly at the knock at the door.

* * *

Despite telling Anna to stay out of it, John wasn't blind and had his own suspicions about what might be going on between Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson. He heard coughing as he made his way up to the attic. Putting aside his own reservations, John took a deep breath and rapped on the washroom door. He waited a moment before, without answering, Carson pulled open the door.

Charles looked at John, obviously surprised. John didn't live in the servants' quarters any longer and would not have any reason to be upstairs in the first place. Before he could ask, John explained, gently, "Jimmy heard you."

Charles rolled his eyes and sighed with loud annoyance.

"I told him to keep it to himself."

"Thank you for that."

"Are you all right? Should I call Dr. Clarkson?" John asked quickly. His concern was genuine. Charles was sweaty and unkempt. The acrid smell of vomit was hard to ignore. It wouldn't be the first time they had flu in the house.

"No, no, I'm fine."

John looked dubious. He eyed the beads of sweat creeping down Carson's cheeks. "Are you sure?"

Charles stared at him for a moment. He was exhausted and still nauseous and he had no one else to talk to. He sat down heavily on a stool next to the sink, the wet washcloth still in his hand. He stared down at it and wiped his brow again.

Internally, John braced himself. This really wasn't the position he had hoped to end up in, but they were here anyway. The silence hung thick for a moment before John began. "So... you're certain it's not flu?"

Charles sighed again, wringing the washcloth. "Yes, I'm fine, Mr. Bates. But thank you." He sounded despondent.

John's initial instinct was to leave, to allow the man his privacy. But he thought of Anna and all that he had been given simply by being welcomed into this house. Taking a breath, he took a huge chance. "I don't mean to impose... but does this have anything to do with Mrs. Hughes?"

Charles's shoulders slumped. He had been folding and refolding the washcloth in his hands. Putting on a phony face of authority, he looked up at John. "She tells me that she's leaving Downton."

John couldn't help his expression - for an instant his eyes widened with shock before he composed himself. Charles noticed and went back to folding his washcloth. John watched the older man, feeling suddenly very sorry for him.

John shifted his cane to his arm and turned, closing the washroom door. The space was somewhat awkwardly close for the two men and Charles looked up at John expectantly.

John took a deep breath and furrowed his brow. Charles stared at him, completely confused. He was about to ask him what he was doing, but John interrupted his thought. "Do you love her?"

Charles balked. Protesting, he fired back. "I don't know what you're..." He shook his head and stood up, but he trailed off.

John waited. Charles panted for a moment, staring at him intently. John decided he was at the end of his comfort level and offered a last piece of advice. "If you haven't told her yet, you should."

Taking his cane back in his hand, John opened the door and turned toward the stairs. Dumbfounded, Charles stood in the washroom, staring at the empty hallway.

* * *

.

.

.

.

**Hugs all around. We're in it to win it.**


	13. Chapter 13

Charles glared at Elsie. She was buttering her toast and ignoring him, again. She had been refusing to speak to him for days. Well - not entirely - they still spoke regarding work, but only in the servants' hall in front of the others. She had made it patently clear that she had no intention of speaking to him in private. Twice already, she had pointedly shut her parlor door in his face as he tried to follow her inside. On one hand, he was relieved that there had been no more talk about her leaving, but on the other he was terrified about what she was doing.

* * *

Elsie counted the sheets and towels in the linen closet and made notes. She re-sorted some of the sheets that should have been designated for other rooms and went to instruct the women in the laundry about which were correct. She'd avoided Charles since she told him she was leaving. It wasn't a post one could depart overnight. Over the past week she'd written several letters. A few to other women in service she knew in the area - phrased carefully. She wasn't explicitly asking for a job, but tried to ask how their positions were and imply that she might soon be inquiring.

The last letter had taken her the longest. She didn't want to write it, but it was a final escape if she wasn't able to find other work. She wrote to Joe Burns, pretending to simply be a friend asking after him. She knew through the grapevine that he hadn't found a wife and she knew with certainty what he would imply from her letter. She didn't wish to mislead him, not really, but her options were limited.

* * *

Charles stalked the upstairs hallway. He replayed his conversation with Mr. Bates in his head. Charles alternated between obsessing over it and rejecting it completely. One moment he told himself he should reprimand Bates for speaking to him so freely and inappropriately, and the next moment his authority sagged and he gasped for breath as he realized what John had said was true.

Continuing to pace, he thought about Elsie. He curled his lip in annoyance. Coming around a far corner by some of the lesser-used rooms, he marched onward. A few paces forward, as he reached a window seat at the far side of the hall, Anna suddenly crossed the hall in front of him, juggling a load of dirty laundry.

"Mrs. Hughes, there you are, Her Ladyship asked me whether we have the new towels ready..."

Anna trailed off as Charles marched forward. Elsie had her back to the wall on the other side of a post. Charles looked at Anna and back at Elsie. Anna quickly understood and gave Elsie a small smile and nod. Nodding quickly at Mr. Carson, she disappeared down the hall.

Angry, Charles turned toward Elsie. "Are you _hiding_ from me?"

"I think avoiding is a better description."

She turned away from him, ready to walk down the hall.

Charles reached out and grabbed her elbow, realizing belatedly that he used more force than he intended.

"_What are you doing?_" Elsie ripped her arm out of Charles's grasp.

Flustered, he pursed his lips together. "You won't speak to me."

"And why should I need to speak to you?" She asked stiffly.

He glared at her with annoyance.

Elsie met his gaze, staring at him flatly. "I told you my position. I've not changed it."

Charles glanced back and forth along the hallway. "Please," he said firmly, "don't do this right now."

"You don't appreciate my timing?" Her sarcasm hung between them.

"It's not good for... for either of us." He gestured toward her chest.

Elsie's anger suddenly flared. "Please do not pretend that anything about... _this_... has anything to do with my... _medical circumstance_." Her eyes were alive and he could see how angry she was.

Elsie's pulse throbbed in her ears as she stared at Charles. Glaring at him pointedly, she turned to walk away.

Charles's breath caught in his throat and he felt his stomach constrict.

Fighting his own urge to react stubbornly, he hurried after her. He reached out to touch her elbow, gently this time, but Elsie threw him a warning glare.

Exasperated, Charles's head whipped around. They were walking toward a busier part of the house and he didn't wish to be overheard.

"Why are you doing this?" he whispered fervently, "why are you punishing me?"

"Punishing you?" Elsie objected, recoiling at his question.

"You're the one who..."

Elsie stopped and glared at him. Charles desperately wished they were not having this discussion in the open.

"Who what, exactly?" she shot back.

He stiffened his shoulders now and frowned at her. She was not honestly going to make him say it out loud. Elsie rolled her eyes at him angrily.

"Fine," She retorted, "if you want to go on pretending, you can pretend all you want. And you can keep pretending that I'm going to stand here waiting for you long after I'm gone."

She paused, waiting for his response, but Charles had none. He could only stand there, gripping his hands tightly behind his back, as he watched her walk away.

* * *

Jimmy sat down at the servants' table, his ears red from the tongue lashing he had just received from Mr. Carson about creases in his livery. He looked down at his jacket. "I don't even see them..." he muttered to himself.

Anna and Mr. Bates sat across from him and Anna gave him a pitying smile. Dusting off his shoulders, Jimmy spoke to Mr. Bates sarcastically, "well he seems better."

John caught Anna's glance out of the corner of her eye. He hadn't told her about his conversation with Carson.

"I suppose we should be thankful for that." He looked back at the newspaper in front of him, hoping Jimmy would drop it. He could already tell he would have to speak with Anna.

"What was that about anyway?" Jimmy blundered on.

John tried to deflect Jimmy's curiosity with his own appearance of disinterest. Keeping his eyes on the paper, he pretended to be bored with the conversation. "Not sure, exactly. Something he ate didn't agree with him, I expect."

Anna was openly staring at John now, her eyebrows raised. He glanced at her quickly and flashed her a smile. God, Jimmy was annoying.


	14. Chapter 14

After Jimmy left, Anna looked around to make sure the hall was clear - particularly that Mr. Carson had gone upstairs. Turning, she leveled her eyes at John. John pretended to keep reading the newspaper, but he was watching her out of the corner of his eye. When she turned toward him in her chair, he looked up at her with a guilty half-smile. Anna raised her eyebrows at him.

"So?"

"So sew buttons if you can't crochet, that's what my mother used to say."

Anna dropped her chin and looked at him semi-seriously.

"No, she really did say that." John smiled, pausing for a moment. "Jimmy told me that Carson wasn't feeling well, so I went upstairs to check on him."

"Is he alright?"

"Yes, he's fine."

Anna was puzzled. "How would Jimmy even have known?"

John paused. "He... heard him. He was in the washroom."

"In the washroom...?" She put it together quickly, "was he physically ill? Is he alright?" Her question was more urgent now.

"Yes, yes, he's fine," John glanced around before stroking his hand over hers reassuringly. "He's completely fine."

"So... what was the problem? What happened?"

John took a deep breath. He respected a man's privacy, but he also wanted to be honest with Anna. He decided to come forth and tell her what happened.

Anna's eyes were wide. "You asked him if he loved her?" She was completely incredulous.

"Yes... but no... I did ask..." John hesitated, making sure the room was empty of prying ears, "but he didn't answer me, not really."

"What does 'not really' mean?" Anna was leaning toward him now and her expression made it clear she wasn't going to accept a vague answer from him at this point.

John sighed. He hated to gossip. "I asked him if he loved her..." Anna eyed him expectantly, "and he didn't really object to my saying it."

"What?" Anna's eyes were wide. "That's incredible!" John felt uncomfortable. "What else happened?"

John took a very deep breath and let the pause hang between them. He looked down at the paper before he looked back at Anna. "I told him he should tell her."

Anna felt like jumping up to hug her husband, but they were in the servants' hall and it wasn't appropriate. Instead, she beamed at him. John looked slightly sheepish and she knew he did not prefer to be in the mix of all this.

"Anything else?"

"No, that's where we left it." John watched Anna as she considered.

"I think you made a good choice," she smiled at him and put her hand on top of his. He could read in her eyes that she knew he was doing this for her, and it was true. He smiled back.

* * *

Charles sorted through the evening post as the staff cleaned up tea upstairs. Gradually, they began to spill downstairs as he carefully piled the letters for the family accordingly. After he got through the family's mail, he began to sort the servants'. Moving quickly, as he usually did, he tried not to be obvious as he looked over the post for Elsie. She had been receiving letters from various women near them, who he assumed worked in similar positions. As each letter came in, he scanned the return address and made a mental note of which house it was. He knew most of them. It broke his heart to see them - she was obviously inquiring after a new position. Frowning, he set her letters aside.

Returning to the other post, he sorted letters for Jimmy and Mrs. Patmore and Daisy. A few in the back were for the family - Mary and his Lordship. Tightening his mouth, he thought about having words with the delivery man. Those should have been at the front and could have been missed on a busy night. Getting to the bottom of the stack, he froze. Dropping the remaining post on his desk, he stared at the letter in his hand. It was addressed to Elsie. In careful handwriting in the upper corner, the return address stated J. Burns.

* * *

Elsie walked through the upstairs hallways doing a final check on the rooms and running through her mental to-do list for the day. It was late and the family had gone to bed, but they'd had some guests the previous nights and she wanted to make sure the rooms had been put back in order. She was also deliberately avoiding Charles.

She walked slowly, in no hurry to return downstairs, mulling over her situation. She had heard back from some friends regarding possible positions. None were in houses as nice, but most were very respectable. She tried to keep her spirits up, telling herself that she was certainly at an age where it would be perfectly sensible to slow down a little, work somewhere less hectic. It could even be an opportunity to leave service entirely, get a job someplace quieter. A shop, perhaps.

Charles watched her approach. He'd had a hunch she would be up here. Staying away from him, no doubt. She looked lost in thought and wasn't striding with her usual determination.

The letter from Joe Burns felt like it was radiating heat in his pocket. He reached down and touched it lightly, feeling his adrenaline surge and his chest tighten. He wanted this to be a civil discussion, but anger pulsed through him with every step he watched Elsie take.

He pulled the letter out of his pocket as he stepped into the hall from the doorway he'd been lurking in. He saw the surprise register on Elsie's face and it only fueled his irritation.

Before she could say anything, he held the envelope in front of her. "I think this is for you."

Elsie was startled by the hardness in his voice even more than his sudden appearance in front of her in this far reach of the old house. Squinting, she reached out and saw her name on the from of the envelope. As her eyes moved to the return address, she snatched it out of Charles's hand.

Charles read her expression. "So you did write him, then? Is that what this is? If I don't give you enough attention, you move on? Just like that?" His anger was palpable.

"_You kept this from me?_" she fired back at him, "_when did this come in?_"

Charles glared at her. Her irritation only fueled his own.

"Answer me," Elsie demanded. Charles seethed.

"What did you put in your love letter?" he snarled, his anger getting away from him, "did you tell him how lonely you are?"

Elsie slapped him in the face.

It was a reflex and they were both stunned for a moment. Charles rubbed his cheek and Elsie froze, scared. He was being so out of character right now, she didn't know how he was going to react. In the corner of her mind, she registered her palm stinging painfully and wondered how much it had hurt.

"How dare you," she hissed, hiding her fear. Looking down at the letter, her own anger surged when she saw that it was open. "You read it!" she exclaimed angrily before looking around quickly, afraid that she had raised her voice.

"That's rich. You taking offense to other people reading your post."

"So what if I did write to him?" She dropped her tone to a sneering whisper, "maybe he has something to offer."

Gritting his teeth, Charles lunged at her. He pushed her backward, pinned her against the wall, and kissed her.

* * *

.

.

.

**Here we go...**


	15. Chapter 15

Charles pushed Elsie against the wall, pressing his weight against her. Startled and confused, Elsie kissed him back and felt his hands wrapping around her tightly. She still held Joe's letter in her right hand as she reached around the back of his neck. Gingerly, she tried to keep the letter from touching him as she ran the fingers of her other hand behind his ear and around the edge of his hairline.

Charles's hands roamed lower and he moved his mouth to the edge of her jaw and her neck. Elsie could feel him pressing against her and she took the opportunity to gasp for air and look quickly up and down the hallway.

"Charles... Charles," she breathed, trying to be quiet. In response, he only pressed himself harder against her. "_Charles_," Elsie repeated, quietly but firmly.

He continued pressing against her neck until she pulled her hands down to his shoulders and pushed his chest back gently. He was panting now and she looked up into his eyes. His face was hard to read. She saw fear and desperation, but also lust. "_Someone's going to see us_," she implored, eyes wide.

The risk snapped him out of his daze for a moment. Stepping back, he pulled himself off her to look up and down the hall. Elsie opened her mouth to ask him what he was doing, but he gestured at her to be quiet.

His hand gripping her elbow, he looked in the direction of the main portion of the house and stood still, listening. Seemingly satisfied with the quiet of the house around them, Charles pulled her into the bedroom behind them.

"Have you lost your mind?" Elsie protested, pulling her arm out of his grasp.

Charles shut the door behind them.

The risk was enormous. Charles was obviously upset, but this was madness. He moved toward her. "Wait," as difficult as it was, she cautioned him, "if somebody hears us..."

He ignored her words and suddenly grabbed the wrist that was holding Burns's letter. "_Is that what you want?_"

She looked down at the letter still in her hand. She could hear the pain in his voice and realized how serious he was being. "You know it's not."

"But you wrote to him."

Elsie's irritation flared back and she ripped her hand out of his grasp. "You cannot tell me that I have been anything less than perfectly clear about how I feel." She held his gaze, daring him to challenge her.

"But you wrote to him..." Charles repeated, frustrated and angry, "you could have taken another post - at a different house..."

She could not believe he had the temerity to be jealous after all this.

"And is that what _you_ want? For me to leave?" The question hung between them. Charles was breathing hard and staring at her. She tightened her jaw. "At last. It would finally be over. Your embarrassment..."

He grabbed her and kissed her roughly. She pushed him away. "Charles, stop..." but he grabbed her again. He hesitated, his arms around her tightly and his face over hers. She snorted and kissed him back.

They turned together, aggressively. Charles tugged off his tie before he grabbed her waist and turned her back to him. He shrugged off his jacket quickly and moved his left arm tightly around her waist while his right slid up her side. Elsie leaned back against him, hesitating for a moment. She felt his mouth on her neck and his arms release her as she heard him pulling his suspenders off.

Pushing back against him, she quickly unbuttoned her dress. Before she was done, he had his hands inside and was undoing her corset. He was breathing heavily against her neck now. She reached her hands back to grab his hips and was aware that one of his hands had moved to her breast while the other undid his trousers.

With both hands, he pulled the rest of her dress over her head and wrapped his arms around her stomach, burying his face in her neck. Elsie stifled a moan and held herself pressed against him. Shifting his hips, he entered her, gripping her tightly to him.

Elsie pursed her lips together to be quiet and pressed her hands into the bed in front of her as she pushed her hips back against him. Charles leaned over her now, breathing his want into her ear and holding her hips tightly. They moved together until she tensed around him and his fingers tightened as he pressed his chest against her back

After a moment, Charles released his grip and moved his hand over her side as he kissed her shoulder blade. Gently, Elsie eased forward and stood up. Smiling, she turned to wrap her hands around his neck, but Charles hesitated and stood stiffly.

Composing himself, he began to move around the room, getting dressed. Confused, Elsie did the same. They dressed in near-silence. As he smoothed his hair in the mirror and turned, Elsie nodded toward the door. "We shouldn't be seen together."

He hesitated, looking at her, but nodded his agreement. Elsie gestured toward the bed. "I'll straighten this."

As he closed the door behind him, Elsie stood still with her heart pounding until long after she heard his footfalls disappear down the corridor.

* * *

"I don't know" Jimmy frowned.

"You're sure?" Thomas looked at him patiently.

Jimmy paced around. "No, I don't think so."

"Not to worry," Thomas smiled, pausing to pull out a cigarette.

"What's all this?" Mr. Bates appeared in the door. Thomas shot him a silky angry smile, while Jimmy stammered awkwardly before disappearing up the stairs. Now John did level his gaze at Thomas. "What are you up to?"

Thomas paused to light his cigarette. Bates glared at him. He smiled. "Oh, nothing, Mr. Bates. Nothing for you to worry about at all."

John glared at Thomas, but only for an instant. If he was up to something, better not to fuel that fire. Pausing, he smiled at him. "I'm sure it will turn out wonderfully for you."

Thomas swallowed his retort with a smile and dissapeared up the stairs. John sighed and opened the paper.

* * *

.

.

.

.

**we have miles to go**


End file.
